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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044682">Slip of the Tongue</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu'>demonessryu</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Arguing, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Timeline What Timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 10:02:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,443</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25044682</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonessryu/pseuds/demonessryu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A heated argument brought out a secret that could cost Brian his dreams, his friends, and Roger.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brian May/Roger Taylor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>66</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Slip of the Tongue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I actually wrote this last year but forgot it. Oops. I read about the time Freddie and Roger lived together in a small flat with a few other people and how they often got into fights when the claustrophobic feelings set in, occasionally driving Brian to return to his parent’s place. I just found that amusing and since it’s Brian, naturally it becomes a bit angsty. The timeline and details were obviously inaccurate but whatever. I need to include John in this and I can’t do that if I try to be accurate.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sharing a flat was a terrible, terrible idea. It <em>was </em>cost-saving, which was very important for the continued survival of poor college students such as them, and it <em>did </em>give Queen an opportunity to bond that was difficult when they lived separately. However, these benefits seemed downright insignificant an hour into a long and loud argument between Roger and Freddie. By now, the rest of their flat mates had decided to rescue themselves to the nearest pub until the pair managed to sort out their differences – <em>if</em> they could remember the differences at all. Brian suspected they had completely forgotten them around half an hour ago and at this point just complained loudly about anything and everything that crossed their minds. John had tried to separate them at first, but had by now given up and sat quietly in the corner, flipping through the pages of a book he had found, looking almost like he wasn’t aware of the fight happening before him if not for the occasional bored glances he threw at the shouting pair. Brian was tempted to join him, but he knew his friends’ tempers, especially Roger’s. Someone needed to keep an eye on them to make sure the argument wouldn’t dangerously escalate. It was unlikely that it would become physical – neither of them was violent by nature – but Roger in particular could be prone to property destruction and Brian couldn’t bear to see him skip meals and sell questionable items he pilfered off from somewhere mysterious to replace the damage he had caused. Roger was resilient, but he was only human and Brian hated to see him be anything less than fine because a stupid argument got out of hand.</p><p>Roger and Freddie actually got on very well on and off stage, just not after a prolonged confinement in a small flat inhabited by half a dozen people. It was difficult enough without the constant influx of visiting friends and lovers and the odd friends who needed temporary shelter before finding more permanent affordable lodging. Brian felt a little guilty of being a part of this last crowd. When his lease ended, he hadn’t been able to refuse Roger’s offer to temporarily stay in the crowded flat. It was cheap and practical, after all, so he seized the chance when it was presented to him. At least that was what he told his friends and parents. At least that was what they believed. But, what really had him eagerly accepting was the warm look Roger had given him when he made the offer and the illusion that the arrangement provided. The sofa might be uncomfortable, the flat might be too crowded, the food might be limited, but if Brian could begin his day with Roger, if he could come home from classes to the sight of Roger lounging in front of the TV, if he didn’t have to make excuses to spend time with Roger, if he could end the day with a quiet good night to Roger, then it was alright.</p><p>Brian would be the first to admit that he and Roger had their share of arguments, but always, without fail, Brian was drawn back to him, a force Brian could never resist nor wanted to resist. He’d long since given up the pretense that it was merely due to music-based admiration or for the good company Roger never failed to provide. It wasn’t mere friendship that Brian felt and longed for. There was attraction that accompanied his every thought of Roger and he hid in every second they spent together, and it was all-encompassing, overwhelming, confounding, frightening, and exhilarating all at once. Brian had fought it t first – there were more reasons to fight it than there were to accept it – but he quickly realized the futility of resisting the rapid fall of his heart for his friend. In quiet, his love seeped through every fiber of his being to settle deep in his soul, a strength that kept him alive even on days when he couldn’t find the will to go on, a warmth that kept him warm even on silent nights when he was all alone, a profound love Brian couldn’t tell a soul and must keep to himself always.</p><p>But, whatever he felt for Roger that made him accept the offer to temporarily live with him, Brian couldn’t wait to get his own place. He was going to move out in just a few days, having found a tiny flat that just fit a small bed for himself, but for now he still had to deal with Freddie and Roger’s frequent fights. He was no longer scared of arguments as he had been at the beginning of their friendship, when the slightest disagreement paralyzed him, and had learnt to stand his ground – a necessity when one had a friend as stubborn and argumentative as Roger. However, raised voice still agitated him. Brian wanted to take care of all his friends and be with Roger as much and long as he was allowed to, but sometimes it just got to be too much.</p><p>“My jacket wouldn’t have been lost if you had put your things away properly!” Freddie shouted, eyes shining with fashion-driven rage.</p><p>Multiple young people living in a cramped space guaranteed that there was no such thing as order, although they all did their best. Brian was familiar with the haphazard way Roger arranged his stuff, putting them in random piles of a strangely organized chaos. He had his system, always able to find what he was looking for. However, it frustrated others, who often lost their own belongings in his piles. It wouldn’t take Roger too long to find said jacket if he tried, but Brian recognized the dark look on his face and pinched the bridge of his nose to ease the headache pounding his skull.</p><p>“Yeah? Why did you put your damn jacket away with my clothes in the first place? You have your own wardrobe, for God’s sake!” Roger retorted with equal fury but higher volume and pitch.</p><p>“You two do have similar sizes and keep borrowing each other’s clothes,” John piped up unhelpfully without looking up from his book, missing the irritated glare Brian sent him.</p><p>“See? I would’ve found it if <em>you</em> hadn’t borrowed it!” Freddie accused, taking John’s words as a support for his argument.</p><p>“Right. Like you’re not currently wearing <em>my </em>shirt,” Roger snapped.</p><p>Brian stood up as Freddie struggled to take off his shirt while criticizing its color and fit. He threw some of his books into his book bag and slung it over his shoulder, ready to march out of the flat. He cared for his friends dearly, adored Roger endlessly, but there was only so much of this ridiculous shouting match he could stand. They had to figure out how to act their ages on their own because Brian wouldn’t be there to sort things out like an adult. He needed his peace and quiet to think and study and write songs and it was clear that he wouldn’t get them here any time soon.</p><p>“Where are you going?” Roger asked as Brian made for the door.</p><p>Brian paused to glare at the arguing pair. “I’m going back home.”</p><p>“You’re living here right now,” Roger reminded him with a small confused frown.</p><p>“My parents’ house,” Brian clarified in agitation. Like every person his age, he wanted to be independent, living on his own, but if said independence came at the cost of his sanity, then he would gladly return to his parents’.</p><p>“What? You’re going to leave me while Freddie…”</p><p>“Roger,” he interrupted, having lost all his patience. He had stayed there with them for a couple of weeks, heard too many of their arguments and tried to keep them from killing each other for almost an hour just today alone. If the lengthy squabble did end with some sort of damage, Brian would help Roger fix it up, lend him some money, do more gigs to earn extra income, or offer his companionship when regret eventually sank in. However, for now, he needed some to get away. “I love you but I can’t listen to this anymore.”</p><p>When a fraction of a second later Brian realized what he had said, it was too late to take it back. Color drained from his face and his stomach turned unpleasantly. The room was frighteningly silent as the three occupants stared at him in shock. Even unflappable John looked at him with wide eyes. Freddie was only a little better, covering his gasping mouth with his hand. Roger, meanwhile, was stood frozen, mouth slightly agape as he looked at Brian with a look of disbelief that Brian didn’t dare to analyze too deeply. He stammered as icy fear ran through his veins. Thick dread made him sick and he took a step back even though no one made any move toward him. He didn’t think they’d harm him, but after what he said, after what he revealed, after what he ruined…</p><p>“I have to go,” Brian choked out, avoiding Roger’s eyes.</p><p>No one stopped him as he walked out of the door. That might be worse than being asked to stay and explain. He strode to his parents’ house, hoping nobody noticed how he was pale and trembling. His mother did notice when he got home, but Brian shook his head at her concerned questions. His reflection was pale and haunted when he passed a mirror on his way to his old room and when he was finally alone, safely locked up in his bedroom, he flung himself to his bed, cursing his poorly timed anger, trying to forget his mistake, wishing he could take everything back, hoping desperately that he hadn’t completely destroyed the best thing in his life, but only succeeding in remembering the look on Roger’s face when Brian told him he loved him: confused, disbelieving, shocked, not at all loving.</p>
<hr/><p>For the next couple of days, Brian kept largely to himself. Even his father was getting worried, although he never said anything. It was a good thing as there was nothing Brian could say to his parents. He didn’t think they would ever understand the pain of losing both a best friend and a secret love in one thoughtless sentence. They would tell him to simply forget about it and move on as if it had never happened as any parent would – supportive but not quite understanding, or perhaps having forgotten, the strength of a young heart. They would be completely right in a way. Time healed and Brian wasn’t insensible enough to stop his life because of a lost chance. But, just because the wound would eventually close, just because it was sensible and reasonable, it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It didn’t mean it didn’t cut and tear, it didn’t mean that the fresh wound wasn’t still bleeding. For the past few years, Brian had revolved his life around Roger. They had shared their music, their dreams, their time, their laughter, their tears, their thoughts, their views, their everything. He had even <em>given </em>his heart, even though Roger hadn’t known it. Now, without Roger, Brian was lost, stumbling in the dark, unsteady in absence of gravity. There was emptiness where once there had been happiness for at least having Roger’s friendship, for at least having Roger beside him even if he’d never looked at Brian that way, and it was cold and it hurt and cut so deep.</p><p>Brian sounded lovesick. He <em>was </em>lovesick. He tried to study and fiddled with his guitar and camera, but nothing could distract him for long from the devastating fact that Roger now knew about his feelings. Anxiety twisted Brian’s stomach whenever he thought of facing the consequences of his loose tongue. He had to get his stuff from the flat and sooner rather than later and Queen had to practice – if they still wanted to practice with him at all. Brian hoped Roger would exercise his usual friendly nonchalance and made no mention of what had happened. However, Brian knew that even if Roger ignored it (why did that possibility hurt more? Why did it stab even worse to think that Roger would simply dismiss Brian’s love for him?) Brian was still a terrible liar. Even before the disastrous confession happened, he had often caught himself staring at Roger warmly or moving close to Roger involuntarily, drawn close by both his looks and personality. Brian’s fondness of Roger had never been a secret, just mistakenly assumed to be completely friendly. Brian knew he wouldn’t be able to hide it better now. If anything, every slip up would be more significant now that they all knew what was behind his loyal affection. Things would be more awkward. Roger would feel even more uncomfortable around him. No more aimless chat. No more sharing songs. No more nights out. No more companionable silence. No more understanding without word. No more them.</p><p>Someone knocked on his door. Brian quickly rubbed his face to make sure he wasn’t crying or looked too miserable before he called the person in. His mother entered with a small smile full of maternal worry. Brian wondered if she had any inkling as to what was going on, just as she had had some inkling about what Brian was when she caught him staring at a particularly handsome classmate years ago. Briefly, he considered telling her everything to ease the burden of bearing his pain alone, but just arranging the words to articulate his broken heart created a fresh tear in deep his empty chest.</p><p>“How are you feeling today?” she asked gently.</p><p>“Good,” Brian lied.</p><p>His mother didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue. “Roger is here for you.”</p><p>Brian’s heart skipped a beat, then sank deep to the pit of his roiling stomach. It must’ve shown on his face because his mother started to frown. Not wanting to worry her more, he quickly got up on unsteady feet, thanked her, and went to see Roger at the front door. His mother left him to have his heart broken in merciful privacy. But, even if she wasn’t there to see it, Brian had little doubt that she would know from how utterly devastated Brian would be, because how could be not be miserable? How could he not be broken? There were only a few ways to completely hide a shattered heart and she would see through every single one and put back together not a single piece of him.</p><p>When Brian saw him, Roger was leaning against the door frame, looking like a dashing rock star in a leather jacket, black t-shirt, and battered jeans, with his golden hair framing his lovely face. He wasn’t smoking, but there was a cigarette pack in his hand. His eyes were obscured by a blasted pair of sunglasses, but Brian knew him enough to read the minute shift of his face that indicated relief. The sight of it elated Brian and made him fall a little more in love. Many girls had fallen for the careless rock star image Roger strived to display and Brian could see why. But, it was the sight of Roger like this, casually rebellious, quietly thoughtful, secretly caring that sent Brian’s heart all aflutter, that won him again even though there was no part of him that Roger hadn’t owned. The instinctive elation quickly and harshly deflated, however, when he remembered why Roger was there in the first place. Brian stopped a few steps away from him, unsure of how welcomed he was now to be near Roger, crushed that he might not be allowed to come near again.</p><p>“All right?” Roger asked and Brian could sense his eyes narrowing behind the dark glasses as he took in Brian’s unkempt appearance and unshaven face.</p><p>“Yeah,” Brian breathed, folding into himself protectively as if everything that mattered to him hadn’t come to ruin.</p><p>Roger frowned, but didn’t contradict him. “We’re going to the pub tonight. Are you coming with us?”</p><p>This was weekend, Brian just remembered. He would usually be amongst the crowd of college students eager to relieve the tension from a week of studying, getting absolutely pissed with Roger competing with him by his side. When he was not, he would be with his friends, sharing whatever food and drinks they could afford with their limited budget, and playing scrabbles, rolling his eyes whenever Roger complained about losing and laughing when Roger celebrated his wins. Or, like a few precious times before, he would be alone with Roger, sitting inches apart, fingers brushing as they shared a drink, talking about everything and nothing, weaving their lives even more closely together. However, Brian couldn’t find the strength to partake in those activities this time. Roger was trying to mend things between them, but Brian couldn’t meet him halfway. He couldn’t pretended like nothing had happened, like nothing had been said, like nothing had changed. He couldn’t go back to the way things had been before, not matter how utterly he wanted everything to be back to normal. Brian swallowed the piercing sadness that began to wind around his throat, throttling him with loneliness. It left a scorching burn in his chest. How was he to go on losing all those, losing Roger?</p><p>“I’ll think about it,” Brian answered quietly, never good with outright refusal, especially now that it concerned the best friend and greatest love he had ever had and would ever have.</p><p>Roger studied at him for a moment, no doubt seeing right through the flimsy pretense of wellness Brian put up. “Let’s go for a ride,” Roger said, his tone broking no argument.</p><p>Brian nodded mutely. Within moments, they were in the battered band van as Roger drove them to an unknown destination. Brian didn’t dare to ask and the streets and buildings passed in a blur outside the windows. The map of London he had in his head was all foggy and he saw not a recognizable route but a strange maze. All Brian knew was that he was in a van with Roger, enveloped by thick silence and heavy tension as never before, and he wanted – desperately wanted – the moment to last forever and end immediately at the same time. He loved being with Roger, but he also loved him, and those two feelings couldn’t exist together. Something had to give. He either had to stay away from Roger or stop loving him and Brian knew he wouldn’t stop loving him.</p><p>“Freddie’s worried,” Roger said when they stopped at a red light. He fished his cigarette pack from his jacket and took a white stick. He had just light it up when the light turned green. The van moved with a gentle shudder that matched Brian’s breaths.</p><p>“I’m alright. I just need some time alone.” Some time to recover from admitting what no one should ever know, from losing a piece of himself that had become attached to Roger. Would there be enough time? Even his whole life seemed too brief to get over someone with whom his heart, life, and soul were so intricately entangled. “How is he?” Brian asked instead.</p><p>“He’s alright. He’s admitted that doing the dishes once in a while won’t kill him.”</p><p>Brian frowned. “The dishes?”</p><p>“Yeah. We were fighting about that, remember?”</p><p>They might very well have been. After a while, everyone had lost track of the original source of contention, but Roger could always be counted on for remembering things other people wouldn’t recall. Brian looked away. Yet another reason why pretending nothing had happened wouldn’t work: Roger wouldn’t forget and Brian would always remember. “I thought it was about his jacket.”</p><p>“Oh, we’ve found that.”</p><p>“Did you borrow it?”</p><p>“Nah. He just misplaced it and actually I found some of my missing shirts amongst <em>his</em> stuff! We didn’t kill each other. Yet!” He sent Brian a smile that grew wider when Brian chuckled weakly. “We’re working on a system. There are too many clothes between us. John says to label them with our names, but that’s ridiculous,” Roger scoffed.</p><p>Knowing Roger’s love for fashion Brian could imagine the incredulous look he must have sent John when he proposed it. He huffed at the thought of the silly banter that must have followed. “What about the dishes?”</p><p>Roger shrugged. “We’ll make a schedule. Put it somewhere everyone can see.”</p><p>Pleased that his friends managed to find a mature way to resolve their issue, Brian nodded in approval. “Good to know it didn’t end in blood.”</p><p>“<em>My </em>blood, most likely. Have you seen Freddie fight? He could be vicious!” Roger said with misplaced enthusiasm. “Yeah, we’re working things out, but I’m looking for a new place for myself.”</p><p>“You’re going to move out?” Brian said, blinking rapidly in surprise. “It’s a difficult living arrangement, but, well, didn’t you decide on the flat because it’s affordable because you have five flat mates?”</p><p>Roger shrugged, seemingly entirely not distressed by situation. He always thought things through, even when he didn’t seem to be doing so. Especially when concerning his future and his dreams, Roger was surprisingly well-planned. Brian knew that it would be all right, that Roger would eventually find a place he could afford, that he would get what he wanted one way or another, but Brian was still concerned. Planning something and actually doing it were two completely different things. They had planned a smooth transition to success and stardom, yet here they still were, starving artists and students. Of course compared with achieving nationwide success, finding an affordable flat was so much easier, but Brian was still worried for Roger’s wellbeing. Brian wished he had a place of his own so that he could offer Roger a place to stay during the search, then harshly reminded himself that that kind of offer was no longer welcomed. Perhaps in the past, it wouldn’t have been strange, but not anymore. Now, Brian must keep his distance.</p><p>“I’ll find something cheap. It’s a difficult living arrangement, like you said.” Roger threw him a quick glance before turning his full attention to the road before them again. “Did you mean it, what you said?”</p><p>They were no longer talking about the fight between Freddie and Roger or about the cramped living arrangement they were enduring for the sake of survival. Brian knew this and his heart pounded in his chest and his hands shook on his lap as he faced the consequence of his stupid agitation. He hunched his back, but trapped in the van with Roger there was nowhere to hide or to run. Even if he somehow managed to avoid this conversation, he knew Roger would find him again. He was determined, Brian could tell. Roger always remembered. He didn’t move on very easily from anything that induced his strong reactions. His emotions burnt hotly and flared brightly, blinding, exciting, captivating, lasting long after Brian’s mental energy was exhausted, when he could do little but watch in wonder, in admiration, in want. But, on his own.</p><p>“I…” he started, then stopped.</p><p>Roger made a turn and soon after, the van stopped at a quiet neighborhood. In a well-practiced move, he crushed his half-smoked cigarette and flung the remains out of his window so that he could give Brian his undivided attention. Roger was determined to get what he wanted: For Brian to spill the content of his heart until he was nothing but a husk of a man, ripped open to display the nothingness inside. The scared shy child within Brian wanted the temporary reprieve, the opportunity to gather some strength of soul before facing judgment from the one he loved, but the adult who had stood on stage before cheering audience, who had taken risky steps to reach far flung dreams, was braced for any outcome that might come. Around Roger, the child always faded away to give way to the man brave and stubborn enough to stand beside Roger. Around Roger, Brian was always strong and somehow this moment was no exception. Brian took a deep breath.</p><p>“If I mean it, will you hate me?” Brian finally asked. It wasn’t quite an answer yet, but his heart was still thundering, his mind still spinning with opposing thoughts, his whole being still aching for love.</p><p>The air in the van was heavy with expectation as Roger studied Brian closely, prying him open with unseen sharp gaze. He tapped his finger on the steering wheel to an unheard song and then frowned at the view of the unknown neighborhood before them. “When are you moving to your new flat?” he asked after a length of time.</p><p>Although confused by the sudden change of subject, Brian haltingly replied, “I guess I should start moving my stuff out tomorrow.”</p><p>“I’ll help you.”</p><p>“Oh. Thank you?”</p><p>Roger nodded. “I like it when you have your own place. It gives me a place to be some weekends.”</p><p>Brian looked away from Roger, cracked heart clogging his throat. Small mercies, he told himself. At least it ended swiftly. But, swift didn’t mean painless. Swift didn’t mean he wasn’t still torn to pieces. Swift didn’t mean he stopped loving. “You’re always welcomed at my place,” Brian said quietly, reaching for the door handle.</p><p>“I know. I’ve taken advantage of that more than you know.” Roger turned his head slightly toward Brian, body casually posed yet tense around the edges. “I have better things to do on Saturday nights,” he said, a reminder of a past conversation Brian mostly remembered for the stabbing pain in his heart it had caused. “But, really nothing is better than spending time with you.”</p><p>Brian knew what he felt for Roger was love, had realized it years ago, come to terms with it for almost as long. He loved Roger, fully, completely, utterly, devotedly. He also knew he shouldn’t expect the same, should instead be satisfied with friendship, and he <em>had </em>been satisfied with it, had learnt to treat the stinging pain of unrequitedness in private. He dreamt, but had never dared hoped, had always told himself that he had no chance. But, now he was presented with the possibility that there <em>was </em>a chance, that Roger might care about him, might like him even a little bit. The hope that he hadn’t nurtured grew in an instant, filling his chest until he couldn’t expand his lungs, winding around his throat until oxygen struggled to enter. His rattled mind parsed and re-parsed Roger’s words, seeking safety in pain only to be brought back to the joy of uncertainty by the sudden burst of hope. Brian fought against using the word ‘love’ to describe what Roger felt for him. It might be a misunderstanding on his part. It might be too much, too enormous, too real or too frightening and he didn’t want Roger to be angry and leave him. Brian wouldn’t assume… He couldn’t assume… He shouldn’t assume…</p><p>“You didn’t seem interested, so I went for those who are interested. But, I can’t really keep myself away.” Roger smiled, but there was a trace of bitterness in it. “Scrabbles, song writing and lack of date make for decent excuses to come to you, don’t you think?”</p><p>Memories rushed to Brian of evenings he found himself in Roger’s company while their friends were off doing their chosen weekend activities. He recalled complaints and arguments about how Roger wished he were doing other things instead. He remembered every pleased smile on Roger’s face when Brian obliged him, playing scrabbles with him or sharing some half-written songs with him or listening to him talk about the society Brian was only vaguely aware of. Mostly, Brian thought of those evenings as evenings of holding back. Holding back when Roger sat close to him. Holding back when Roger slung an arm over his shoulders. Holding back when Roger smiled to him like he saw Brian for what he was and liked him regardless. Holding back when Roger shared with him thoughts and secrets no one else knew. Holding back when Roger listened to him even when he was getting boring. Holding back his love because there was no way Roger could ever love him back. Holding back for nothing, apparently, for all this time Roger had wanted him back.</p><p>Brian didn’t respond for too long, it seemed, because there was a minute change in Roger’s face that would’ve been unrecognizable if Brian hadn’t been so familiar with the look of a broken heart whenever he looked into a mirror. “It’s fine if you don’t mean what you said.”</p><p>“Of course I mean it!” Brian hurried to say, leaning forward with his hand half reaching toward Roger before he stopped himself. “Roger, I mean it! I’ve never meant anything more in my life!” he declared earnestly.</p><p>“Good.” And there it was, a response breathed in relief. Roger’s tense shoulders relaxed and there was now openness in his expression that made Brian realized how carefully he had restrained himself. Brian wished he could remove Roger’s dark glasses. He wanted to see what else had been hidden from him. He wanted them to stop hiding from each other. “I was getting worried there.”</p><p>A smile tugged on the corners of Brian’s lips. He felt giddy, his heart fluttering and almost bursting with the love he had never thought would be returned. But, it was returned-<em>had </em>been returned for longer than he had thought, apparently. Now Roger was right beside him, looking at him with affection that was at once new and familiar. How long had he been looking at Brian like that? How long had Brian not noticed, too lost in self-depreciation? How <em>could </em>Brian not notice when it was so naked, so clear, and so sincere? “Whenever we spend time together, I always wish you never had to go. I always wish I could go with you or ask you to stay with me. When you offered me to stay at the flat, I couldn’t refuse. Your squabbling drives me mad, but I couldn’t resist being near you. I can never resist you.”</p><p>“Soppy bastard.”</p><p>“Yeah. Sorry.”</p><p>They shared a look and laughed, as easy and honest as they always did in private. Then, Roger glanced around them, removed his sunglasses, and leaned toward Brian to brush his lips against his. It was light and fleeting, a brush of a fairy king’s wings. It felt unreal, so Brian gathered his courage and held Roger’s callused hand. Then, he knew it was real, it wasn’t a dream, it wasn’t a cruel fantasy, and he smiled when he opened his eyes. The color of Roger’s eyes was cold, but the affection radiating from them was warm, always warm for Brian, even when they fought and didn’t get along. Roger squeezed his hand and Brian just knew that this time, even when Roger let his hand go, even when Roger left, even when they parted ways, he would always be with Brian.</p><p>“Let’s skip the pub tonight,” Roger proposed. “Have a proper dinner at a restaurant instead.”</p><p>“Sounds great,” Brian agreed readily, breathlessly, the way one did when waking from a nightmare into a brighter, friendlier, more loving reality. They released each other’s hand slowly, unwillingly. When Roger gripped the steering wheel again, this time tightly, with a look on his face that was intoxicatingly loving, Brian wished he could hold his hand again, lose himself in the newness of the fact that he was allowed to touch, to look, to love, to keep, to be kept. “Uh, can we afford dinner?” he asked, momentarily returning to the not-so-easy reality.</p><p>Roger smirked and put his sunglasses back on. The van rumbled back to life and shortly returned to the road. “I’ll sell Freddie’s jacket if I have to.”</p><p>Brian laughed and shook his head. On the driver’s seat, Roger shifted and Brian knew if not for the seatbelts and the gear stick between them, he would press his side against Brian’s in search of comfort, in search of love. Brian looked at him fondly, then turned his eyes to the road as he let his imaginations freely conjure up lovely ways of how their dinner tonight and their lives in the future could go. The van moved at a steady speed. Beside him, Roger hummed a cheerful tune. Brian smiled, excited but not impatient for this friendship-turned-romance. They had wasted some time, but they still had more to come and this time, they would make every second of it count.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Did Freddie’s jacket survive Maylor’s budget date? We shall never know because the author doesn’t! I wasn’t going to make them kiss but it’s been 5k words and I was so tired, so I give them that kiss. Honestly, I was surprised by how long it is considering my main inspiration is “I love you but I can’t listen to this anymore.” I hope you enjoyed it (the fic and/or the kiss)! And now I shall be off getting ready for Brian’s birthday because I let my imagination run away from me and am now paying the price.</p><p>Stay safe, stay at home if you can, stay informed. Feel free to talk to me on tumblr if you need company. I can be found on <a href="http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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